


i've left to be with sherlock

by KissedKitten



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, dumb fic i wrote for my friends birthday, implied suicide, please excuse, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissedKitten/pseuds/KissedKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey hey here's a little dumb thing I wrote for my friends birthday that I thought I'd post because whatever man. anyway it sucks please enjoy xoxox</p>
    </blockquote>





	i've left to be with sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey here's a little dumb thing I wrote for my friends birthday that I thought I'd post because whatever man. anyway it sucks please enjoy xoxox

_Ten months, three weeks, six days and twenty-two hours._

John had barely left the house in that time. He honest-to-god tried to pick up where he left off, forget he ever met the man who turned his life upside-down. He tried to cut off that part of his brain completely. The only problem was that every time his phone buzzed, John Watson expected the text to be signed with two little letters, '-SH'. Every single fucking time there was a case in the papers, he would turn to notify the man who was no longer there. 

John had moved out of the apartment two days after the incident. Of course, he couldn't bring himself to move Sherlock's things - he would end up hurting himself again. 

Why wasn't he there? Friend's protect people, right? So why couldn't he have protected Sherlock? Thrown himself off the building instead? The pain in his head and the heaviness of his chest became progressively worse with each passing day. Every day he thought about joining his friend, falling from the same building. The moments they had shared were worthy of a scene in the notebook, but they only created more angst and longing for his friend - no, lover. They were more than friends, but Sherlock was long gone before John realised this. 

_Two years, four months, one week, three days and eighteen hours._

John was very tight on money. Paying for the empty apartment drained him, he had to move Sherlock's stuff. He would much have preferred to hire someone to do it, the only problems were the assorted body parts stored in every spare inch of the apartment. 

He took the elevator to Ms. Hudson's floor to notify her he was here, then he climbed the stairs to the right floor. John stared at the golden numbers on the door. He could almost see Sherlock's reflection next to his in the mirrored surface. 

Sliding the key into the lock and turning it ever so slowly, the door clicked open and John pushed his was inside. It was exactly as he left it - only more dust. Everything was in darkness, just as Sherlock would have liked it. The sun shined through a few tiny moth-bitten holes in the thick velvet curtains. Those few beams of sunlight faintly illuminated the skull that sat atop the mantel. 

The rays lit up the skull in a way that defined its features. Defined the cheek bones and almost had an expression of... Regret? No, no, no. He threw the skull into the box and collapsed into the chair that was formerly his. Stained with years of use and all the small holes where he had been shot at. Not in a threatening way... More just friendly shots that told him to shut up. 

John returned to the kitchen, noticing something that he didn't see - or wasn't there - before. Sitting on the counter was a carton of milk, with a small note attached. Surely that hadn't been there previously, John would have seen it. He walked unsurely to the counter and picked up the small note. 

'I remembered the milk'.

_Three years, six months, two weeks, seven days and sixteen hours._

John was sure he was going crazy. It was Valentine's Day today, and after many failed dates, John was by himself again. Since he found the milk on the counter, he noticed hundreds of little things that reminded him of the curly haired genius. 

There was the code he found in the paper, the one that spelled out "JOHN WATSON, I AM SORRY". There was also the Lucky Cat that somehow appeared in the window of the diner. Just little things that killed him a little more inside. 

It was Valentine's Day and John was suicidal. He had perfectly planned the timing and method. For six months, he knew it would happen today. All that was left was to write a note, and he'd even planned that out. 

John tied the noose and threw it around the ceiling fan. He was terrified - god was he scared. He left his bedroom to leave the note on the counter. Six little words. 

"I've left to be with Sherlock."


End file.
